every chorus was your name
by jonimitchell
Summary: "No," she says and she's pulling back the sheets of his bed and crawling into it, shoes and tights askew on the floor. She pats the miniscule space beside her – they're twin beds, after all – like it's her own bed and he slips beside her, his body curved right against hers. "You can maybe kiss me. Just a kiss, please, because I have – I have a someone. And I want to kiss Finn." AU


**heyo! it's been a bit, i guess, and i didn't mean for this to take so long but my laptop broke and school got busy, so! **

**this is an au fic for my pal jenna because it was her birthday and also jess and tori because they're also little cheerleaders on the side and finally dedicated 2 roochel cause she cried over snippets on skype**

**glee ain't mine**

* * *

_i_.

It's kind of a fluke that he's here. At college, he means. Like, yeah, he participated in practically every extracurricular his high school offered, but he had a B average and got a handful of C's. Maybe they'd really liked his essay about music and his dad and whatever, or maybe they really needed some diversity (what's so diverse about a big, white male from Ohio, he just doesn't know). Regardless, he's really grateful, so he spends a lot of time that first semester studying.

Totally lame, he knows. And his roommate, Sam, he's a huge partier and is always coming in drunk or not coming in at all, and he's always hooking up with these really weird girls. Finn just isn't interested in partying and stuff.

But it's not like Finn doesn't have friends. He does. And he gets invited to parties, he just doesn't choose to go.

Until one night, Sam's totally like, _urging_ him, so he goes. It's at some senior's apartment and Finn knows the guy from this Intro to Film class Finn's taking for his minor – he loves film, really, but teaching's his passion, you know?

Anyway. Finn puts on these jeans and this sweater that he thinks is just Bill Cosby enough to be ironic and cool. And the party's fine, run of the mill beer and vodka and some gross grinding in the living room and smoking on the fire escape and puking in the bathroom. He's not that impressed, until he's getting another beer from the fridge and this girl runs into him.

"Oh, _no_," she moans, and sort of falls on her ass. He can't tell if she's drunk or dramatic and he helps her to her feet.

"Are you okay?"

She isn't wobbling or anything, but her eyes are all bright and her cheeks are all flushed, and he's struck, for a moment, by how gorgeous she looks. "I am _fine_, sir."

He wonders if he's supposed to think she's funny. "What's your name?"

"I am Rachel," she declares. "And wait, I _know_ you. I know you. You are Finn."

"How do you –"

She puts her hand on his elbow and guides him to this tiny little nook in the kitchen where there's a bench seat, like a restaurant, and this tiny table, and she pushes him down and sits right next to him.

"You're in my education class," she explains, "and you _always_ raise your hand because you're so good at knowing education things and the professor _loves_ you."

He feels his cheeks warm, and he's not sure if it's because of this strange girl's affection or the two beers he's had making an impact on him.

"I remember you because I remember thinking you were _so_ cute."

"Umm…" He doesn't really know anything about her, but he decides he likes her. "What's your major?"

"Music Theater," she tells him. "But I might teach. If Broadway turns bad."

He's not sure how time slips, but suddenly it's past midnight and they're still huddled in that nook, and Rachel crawls onto his lap and leans her forehead against his.

"We can't make out," she tells him. "I mean. You can walk me back to campus. And I'll let you hug me, and we'll be friends."

He walks her back to campus, and when they're standing outside his door in his building she puts one of her fingers through his belt loop and she follows him in.

"Your room is _small_," she marvels. "But – oh! you have a roommate."

"You don't?" His head feels all foggy and kind of cottony and he knows he won't wake up with a hangover there's just all this pressure and he wants to sleep it off.

"No," she says and she's pulling back the sheets of his bed and crawling into it, shoes and tights askew on the floor. She pats the miniscule space beside her – they're twin beds, after all – like it's her own bed and he slips beside her, his body curved right against hers. "You can maybe kiss me. Just a kiss, please, because I have – I have a someone. And I want to kiss Finn."

She's talking about him like he isn't even here, but he leans in and kisses her anyway. It feels like coming home and like standing at the top of the Empire State Building – completely in control and totally exhilarating at the same time. Her mouth is curved upwards when he pulls away, her eyes shut, and she's suddenly so lovely in the moonlight he has to kiss her again.

_ii_.

She steals his sweater. And, okay, it's just a sweater, but she wears it to class sometimes and just smiles at him, says, _hi Finn_ like she didn't completely enchant him all on her own, and he supposes they can be just friends now, or they can just be friends now. He's not sure which one is more significant, but he is sure that he doesn't want to only be her friend.

He knows, okay? Hooking up in college is fairly meaningless. Well, depending on the circumstance. Obviously. But usually, it's meaningless and girls cheat on their guys all the time and that's just how it is. He knows his friend Quinn's already cheated on Puck, that's her boyfriend, but Puck's so gone on her he'll forgive her in a heartbeat.

Finn thinks he must be gone on Rachel, otherwise he would've demanded his sweater back.

At another party in October, he's sitting on this couch with Rachel. There's a joint going around and he's got a warm beer in his hands and one of her hands is on his neck, right where it meets his shoulder. They're soft, her fingers, and they feel good rubbing slightly into his skin.

Tina says something funny, he laughs, and Rachel kind of gives him this _look_. This _you're mine_ look, this _stop flirting with Tina_ look. Tina's pretty, okay? And she flirts back, too, good-naturedly, of course. Finn wonders if Rachel knows she's got a fiancé in Chicago.

"I love him, you know," she says suddenly. "My someone. I can't get enough of him."

She turns to her phone, shoots off a message. "I'm happy for you, really."

"You should be." She leans her head on his shoulder, looks at him from under her lashes. "He treats me like a princess."

"As you should be treated." Tina passes him the blunt and he inhales, the first time, ever. Rachel watches, eyes wide, and he presses it into her fingers.

"I'm – I'm scared." It's not that intimidating, really.

"S'good," he sighs. He takes his second hit and things are feeling pretty good. "Wait, I know I know. We can shot gun."

"No guns," she whines. Santana, next to her, rolls her eyes.

"Can you two fucking get it on already? Or at least pass that thing my way."

"We're shotgunning," Finn says. "I'm just gonna – I'm gonna collect the smoke in my mouth, understand? And then I'm just – I'm just gonna _push_ it into your mouth."

"Finn," she begins patiently, "I have a boyfriend. We cannot kiss."

"Our mouths won't touch. Scouts honor." She stares at him suspiciously, but scoots closer to him as he inhales, and he grabs her head and his mouth hovers right over hers and he just pushes the smoke into her mouth.

He isn't sure how it happens, if his center of balance is fucked or if she's clumsy, but his mouth winds up pressed right against hers, and they're kissing. And he pulls away after a second because she's in love and it's not with him, and she doesn't say anything, doesn't look him in the eye, even, and turns back to the party.

_iii_.

Rachel doesn't mention the kissing again and they don't really go to parties anymore, instead, he does his studying and his homework and she joins him most of the time, because even though he's falling in love with her and he can't have her, they're still friends.

One day, she's lying on her stomach on his bed with a book spread in front of her and he's working on this midterm paper for his education class when she says, "Finn, can I ask you something sort of personal?"

He glances up. Her hair's in this ponytail, tied with a pink ribbon, and she's wearing this navy dress and he can see right down the neckline of it. (He won't tell her until later, of course, that for the longest time that sight won't leave his mind.)

"Uh, of course, Rach."

She smiles a little and flips her book closed, sits up and bends her knees beneath her. He glances at his essay and he's got like a thousand of the fifteen hundred-words limit and supposes he can take a break. It's a Friday, anyway, and he and Rachel haven't even eaten yet, so he closes his laptop and turns and gives her his attention.

"Do you ever feel like you can't do it?"

He blinks. "Do what?"

"This whole school thing, I mean. I'm paying all this money to be taught things I already _know_, Finn."

"So, what? You wanna leave NYU?" He frowns. "Don't, like, leave."

She huffs and shifts a little bit on his bed. It does something to him, seeing her there all comfortable and leaning against his pillows looking all pretty and fantastic and just – he's so lost for her.

"I have to ultimately do what's best for me, Finn, and I don't know that a relatively meaningless degree is what's best for me."

He stares at her for a long time – well, it certainly _feels_ like a long time – and then he smiles at her. "Rachel, I really think you should do whatever you see fit, what's best for you. Like, I'm probably gonna support you as long as you aren't harming others or yourself, okay? You don't – you don't need to worry about, um…"

"About losing your friendship if I leave, you mean?" She slips off the bed and hugs him tight around the shoulders.

These days he really hates being close to her. It's like every single feeling he has for her surges into his chest and it's just – it hurts, really. He can't think of another person he's wanted as much as he wants Rachel, and she's taken, and she'll probably marry this guy, this nameless faceless guy who she barely mentions but for in passing and, _god_, he can't believe he's let himself get so involved.

"This talk has really cheered me up," she says, and her hands are on his shoulders, now.

"I'm really glad." Something changes in her expression and he wishes he were better at reading her face. She's so hard to understand sometimes. "You wanna go eat?"

_iv_.

Winter break takes him to Lima and Rachel comes to his dorm before he leaves to say goodbye.

"I'll miss you," she says, hugging him tight around the middle. "You'll call or text, _right_?"

He smiles, pats the middle of her back. "'Course I will."

"Okay." She steps away, zips his jacket for him like she's his wife, or something. That thought kind of tightens in his throat, makes him feel like he's suffocating or dying or something. "Have a safe trip, Finn. And a merry Christmas and a very happy New Year!"

He smiles, presses one hand on her shoulder, and he knows it's inappropriate but he has to kiss the blushing apple of her cheek. It's warm against his lips, her cheek, and so soft and grows warmer because he lingers there. One of her hands slips into his and she doesn't push him away, just rubs her thumb over his skin.

"Have a happy Hanukah, Rach. I'll miss you so much." She hugs him one last time, and then it's time to go home.

He finds himself missing it, New York, and not the freedom, but the city itself. He wonders how much of that has to do with the girl still there. Rachel. He can't wait to get back and see her, and even if she'll never reciprocate his feelings for her, she's still a good friend.

Winter break flies by. He sees his high school friends, drinks too much beer in Puck's basement, facilitates too many arguments between Puck and Quinn, spends a lot of time in the living room watching TLC with his mom. Yeah, he's glad to get back to the city.

He calls Rachel as soon as he's settled, invites her over. When she comes in, she looks different. Sadder, maybe. And she's wearing this plum colored sweater with a big polar bear on it, and she would look so fucking cute if she didn't look so sad.

"How was your break?" She only shrugs, climbs onto his bed and curls up, watches him rearrange his books on his bookshelf. "New sweater?"

"Yeah," she says, and her voice is soft and melancholy, "Papa bought it for me for Hanukah."

He loves that she mentions her parents so offhandedly, like he knows them personally when he's never even been introduced. "That's awesome, Rach. My mom got me _Braveheart_ on Blu-Ray. Cool, huh? Now we can watch it whenever we want. _And_ in HD."

She laughs a little and scoots up on the bed so her head's against the pillow. Her feet are bare, moccasins left on the floor by his desk, and she lets out this little whine. "I'm cold."

"You're not wearing socks," he explains.

"Can I borrow a pair of yours?" He's pretty sure any socks of his are gonna totally swallow her feet, but he grabs this striped pair he's just gotten for Christmas and tosses them at her. She cheers in gratitude and pulls them on her feet.

"You have huge feet."

"Well, no one said you _had_ to wear my socks." He goes to sit at his desk chair because he's done unpacking and arranging and he's not sure if she'd be comfortable with him sitting next to her, considering she's got her someone.

"Come sit next to me." He sighs and hops onto the bed, folding his legs Indian style and staring at her. She's curled on her side with her hands tucked under her chin and she looks sad, still, but also like she could fall asleep at any moment. Like maybe she hasn't slept well these past few days.

"Hey, are you okay?" She sits up, scoots so she's beside him and she leans her head against his shoulder.

"No."

"What's up?"

"Jesse and I broke up."

He's supposed to be sad, right? He arranges his features carefully, drops his arms around her shoulders. "I'm so sorry." He thinks that sounds convincing.

"He _cheated_ on me, Finn." She lets out this low, shuddering breath. "Like, he had another girlfriend."

"Didn't you cheat on him, too, though?"

"This is different than kissing you two times, Finn!"

He pauses, because it really isn't. But he doesn't wanna piss her off or anything, you know? So he nods, rubs her bicep. "Do you want to get back with him?"

"I thought I did," she says quietly, "but I don't think so anymore."

She puts her head in her hands and he doesn't know what to do. "Rachel, what do you need me to do?"

"Be my friend," she tells him, her voice all soft and vulnerable. He knows she hates feeling like that, so he puts his other arm around her and draws her body against his own.

"I'm so sorry he did that to you," he says. "You deserve better."

She squirms slightly, still in his arms, and she looks at him. Her face is so close to his and if she weren't heartbroken and totally out of his league, if he had some fucking _nerve_, he'd kiss her right there.

"I do, don't I?"

He nods and she presses her head against his shoulder, her thighs straddling his waist. He's not really sure how she got into his lap, but he likes her here. She's so, so small, delicate, almost, and he can't help but press his mouth against her forehead. "You'll be okay, right, Rach?"

"I think I will, if I've got a pal like you to cheer me up."

_v_.

"You look really – um – good, tonight," Rachel says clumsily.

"You look pretty," he exchanges, smiling. They're going to this party he got invited to by this upperclassman, Joe. Joe's pretty cool, he lives in an apartment on the edge of campus or whatever and he's got fucking dreadlocks. He's only wearing a blue button down shirt and these weird pants his brother bought him for Christmas.

Rachel tugs a coat on over her shoulders, slips her feet into her boots, smiles at him. Her smile, _really_. He doesn't think there's another one he'll ever want to see more.

"Let's get going, pretty girl," he says easily. She leans her head against his arm, and her smile seems almost permanent.

"Do you think he'll be there tonight?"

"Who?"

"You know," she says, nudging his arm and ducking her head down against the cold, "Brody."

"Who the fuck is _Brody_?" And why does Rachel sound so excited at the possibility of seeing him tonight?

"That upperclassmen," but she doesn't elaborate until he raises his eyebrows at her, "I'm _sure_ I told you about him, Finn. He's an upperclassman, totally hot and into me…"

Can he tell her? That she's supposed to be his girl? That he's so fucking sick of her and all these other guys he feels like he could scream? They're meant to be together, he's certain of it, and he never imagined it'd be this hard to get her.

She puts her hand on his chest, stills him. They're like basically in the middle of the street right now and there are all these people just passing by and like he has one of those _moments_ you know? Like where everything comes to a head and yeah, he's totally in love with her and he's just really fucking sick of feeling like he's second best in her life.

"Finn, _don't_ be mad." She actually fucking puts her hands on his cheeks. "This thing with Brody, it's…it's all physical. I don't even like _him_, all that much. Just…we made out in the dance studio last week and it was – "

"Shut up shut up shut _up_!" Maybe his voice is a little louder than necessary, because the gaze of passers-by falls on him. He ignores it. "Really, Rachel. Do whatever."

"I need a rebound," she says. "A rebound, and then I'll be – I'll be just fine on my own." She doesn't look at him when she continues, "I think."

He wonders why she needs a guy so badly to feel good about herself, and he feels like any sort of hopes of them ever being a _thing_ are suddenly dashed. There's no way he wants to be with her now when she's all fucked up, because he's sure it'll only lead to pain down the road for the both of them.

Maybe he can help her heal, though. As her friend.

_vi_.

The Brody thing comes and goes. One day, he's all she can talk about, and the next she's shrugging and saying she broke it off. The physical stuff wasn't as great as she'd though, she tells him, sipping tentatively at her coffee.

"How can you even drink that shit?" He wrinkles his nose.

"Lots of practice," she teases. He laughs and he wants to slip his fingers between hers. He settles on inching them closer so that his fingertips just brush against hers. He wonders if she can feel it, that sort of spark that flows from him skin to hers. She's not really meeting his eyes. "How are your classes? God, it's March. I feel like I don't see you _ever_, anymore, and we're going on break next week. Are you going home?"

Fuck. He loves that when she talks it's like three separate conversations in one breath. He just loves her, but he's been doing a good job of keeping that to himself. "Classes are fine, and you were so busy with Brody. And no, I'm not going home."

Her brow creases. "Are you going on vacation?"

"No."

"Finn," she gasps, "you can – why don't you come back home with me? Papa and Daddy are unfortunately going on their annual couples cruise and they'd booked the tickets so long ago there was no hope in returning them. I'll be lonely, all alone in the townhouse…"

"Rach, I dunno…"

"What else are you going to do, huh? Play video games alone in your room until your eyes give out?"

Actually… "I was gonna do some reading, actually."

"Well, you can read at my place. Please, Finn. _Please_! Please." She puts her hands on his and he looks away for a second. "Finn!"

"Um – "

She's already slipping into the seat beside him and she puts both her hands on his cheeks. Fuck, he wants to kiss her. He wants to kiss her _so bad_. But he's resolved to be her friend now, _only_ her friend.

"Please, Finn, _please, please, please, please_, please, pl—"

"Okay, okay!" She cheers and claps her hands and does this little squeal victory dance in her seat and, god, really. Everything she does makes him fall in love with her more.

_vii_.

They're taking this bio class together, him and Rachel. He likes having her in his class, as his lab partner, more specifically. She's so smart and always does all of the homework and they study together and stuff, so he's got a pretty good grade in a class he would otherwise be struggling in.

But they have their bio class on the last day before break and when they're walking back to the dorm, Rachel puts her hand in the crook of his elbow. His heart does that fluttering thing it always does when she touches him.

"I'm so excited to take you home," she says. "I have all my things packed in my room. And I can't believe you've never been to Williamsburg, Finn!"

"I've only lived in New York since August." He shrugs and she sighs, nuzzling her cheek a little against his bicep. He wishes she wouldn't do that, wishes that she would stay away from him so he had a hope of getting over her, of moving on from a relationship that never really _was_ in the first place.

"Well, still. We're going to have so much fun, Finn, I promise."

They make their way back to the dorms and she grabs her bag, this big pink monstrosity that she can barely carry with her laundry bag, so he heaves her laundry over one shoulder, and his duffel bag over the other. It's heavy, but she looks at him with this amazed light shining in her eyes and he thinks that's worth the slight tension on the subway to Williamsburg.

"What do you want to do first?"

"Umm," he pauses and she scoots all close to him, "I dunno, Rach. Whatever you want."

"Finn," she whines, "the possibilities are _endless_."

He hates when she does this. "Please, Rach. You decide."

She sighs, begins murmuring fervently. He can barely catch it, she's talking so lowly and so fast, so instead he just leans his head back and closes his eyes. They had a pretty hard bio exam today and he was up all night studying and he feels good about it and all he just wants a _break_.

Next thing he knows, Rachel's shaking his arm. "You fall asleep really quickly," she says. "This is our stop!"

He decides he likes Williamsburg, or at least Rachel's Williamsburg. She's smiling so wide as she leads him down the street and she stops in front of this townhouse.

"Finn, this is my house. House, this is my Finn." He feels his cheeks go so hot, hearing her call him hers. She whispers, "Finn, Finn _say_ something."

"Um, hi, Rachel's house. Thanks for having me."

She's beaming and she leads him inside. Rachel slips off her boots and she's wearing these socks with cats printed all over them. It makes him smile, because for a while there she wasn't really wearing her animal print things and he thinks she looks good no matter what, but there's something about those sweaters with cats and dogs and bears that just made him smile.

"You can stay in my room," she tells him, grabbing his wrist and tugging him upstairs.

"Uh – uh…with _you_?"

She laughs. "Yes. You're my friend, and the spare bedroom is being renovated into a guest room."

He furrows his brow. "What was it before?"

"My practice room." She pushes open a door and he's greeted with a wall of mirrors and a ballet bar. "See?"

She's walking in front of him and he can't really stop himself from staring at her butt. It's a really nice one, you know? Like…she's totally hot and he thinks she knows and she's wearing those black leggings today and he thinks maybe she should wear them every single day because she looks so damn good.

"Finn, this is my room," she says, pushing open a white door. It's not really what he'd expected from her room, but in another respect, it's kind of exactly what he's expected. It's bright and yellow and it looks like sunshine and she's got all these Broadway posters and her windows are big and so's her bed.

"Very you," he says, tossing her laundry and his duffel on the floor. She glares as he flops onto the bed. "Which side do you want?"

"Both." She puts her bag down and slips into the bed beside him. "Maybe we should just nap first," she suggests. "Before doing anything, I mean."

She curls up on her side, facing him, but not touching him. "No, let's eat. I'm literally starving."

Her eyebrow quirks and her mouth curves just a little in a smile. "Literally?"

"Yes." He glares at her, resists this urge that wells up inside of him to roll on top of her and press her into the mattress, to kiss her until they can't breathe.

It feels oddly domestic, you know? Being with Rachel in her house, making dinner by her side. He really thinks this would be the best time to tell her just how he loves her, how every single limb and bone and muscle and tendon and fiber of him is so completely in love with her, but then he thinks about her face when she told him she'd broken up with Jesse, how much he wants to make her feel good and how maybe friendship is all she needs (or wants) from him. Instead, he settles for singing with her and smiling with her and helping her knead dough for cookies and making this special, homemade spaghetti sauce and putting bread in the oven and he's so fucking hungry he could eat all of it.

"I'm so glad you came with me," Rachel says when they're done eating. She's sitting across from him and smiling lazily and he thinks it's probably because he just witnessed her eat her weight in pasta. She's so fucking cute, though, he just wants to – he just wants to be hers.

"Me, too," he sighs, because he just ate his own weight in pasta, too. It was fucking good though and he doesn't even regret it one bit. "I can't move."

"We have to do the dishes," she whines. Her feet press against his kneecaps.

"I know." He pauses and looks at the plates, at her eyes half-closed like moons and he decides to just let her rest or whatever and gets up. Her feet fall to the floor and she pouts a little at him.

"Finn, what are you doing?"

"The dishes," he explains.

"Let me help."

"No, no, baby, I'll do it just fine." He doesn't even notice the slip until he's in the kitchen washing off their plates. He wonders how that made Rachel feel, because she certainly didn't react vocally and he didn't catch himself in time to see her facial reaction. It doesn't take him long to wash the dishes. When he's home, it's _always_ his chore. His brother, Kurt – well, step brother, really – he always gets out of it because of his fucking manicures.

He dries his hands, lays the dishes out to dry and joins Rachel in the living room. She's all curled up on the couch and her eyes are closed and for a moment, he thinks she's sleeping and he considers pulling her into his arms and tucking her into her bed upstairs, even though it's just barely nine o'clock.

"Finn," she says when he puts his hands on her waist, "lie down with me."

"Umm…"

"Just…just come here. Stay close." Her eyes are still only half-open and he thinks she must only be semi-conscious. She's never talked to him in this voice before, never looked at him like that and for a minute, he pretends she loves him too and he slips his body between the curve of her back and the couch cushions and she snuggles right into him.

And, yeah, after a few minutes (and a lot of her slight wiggling) that like sends all the blood in his fucking body straight to his cock, because her butt is just pressed right against him. He thinks she must fall asleep because he can feel her breathing because his arms are wrapped around her waist, hands splayed over her stomach, and he can feel its steady rise and fall with her even breathing. After a while, he gets sort of bored and his eyelids feel all heavy so he gives into the feeling and falls asleep.

The next thing he's aware of is Rachel's hands on his shoulders, gently shaking him awake. Her face is all sleepy and flushed and he smiles slowly at her, and instinct tells him to kiss her. He doesn't.

"What'sup?" It all comes out in one hoarse slur.

"We fell asleep on the couch," she murmurs and her eyelids flutter a little and she's got her hand on his cheek. "Let's go to bed."

_viii_.

Rachel tells him she's a vegan as she eats a piece of pizza. They're sitting on the floor of her family room, pizza box between them, and she's smiling at the pizza like it just proposed to her or something.

"You're a _what_?" He takes the piece of pizza from her hands and eats it himself. They might be on their way to pretty drunk, too. There's this bottle of wine and two glasses that have been full three times and empty twice and he takes a long slow sip from his glass, finishing it off after he swallows the pizza.

She glares at him all the while.

"Why're you glaring?"

"You stole my meal," she accuses. "Gimme another piece, Finn, _please_."

"Cheese is against the rules, you vegan slut."

Her eyes are all round, though, and they well with tears. "W-what?"

"I didn't mean it like _that_," he assures her, kneeling and taking a piece of pizza into his hands and putting it into her mouth. "Chew, sunshine."

She closes her eyes and eats it, and when she finishes she smiles at him. "Thanks. Finn, no more wine, _okay_?"

He's already corking the bottle because everything's so…so…spinny? He's ninety five percent sure that's valid. And he wants to keep this good feeling, doesn't want to puke and wake up with a horrible hangover. Rachel grabs a hold of the couch and stands slowly, holding her arms out in front of her when she stands so she's balanced.

"Let's go to bed, captain," she says. "First wait you put the pizza in the fridge and I will get ready for bed. And then you can come and we can cuddle like we have every night since you came here."

He nods and watches her go and gets up himself and like, the time goes by really fast because suddenly, he's curled on the bed with Rachel and she's facing him, all pressed against his chest and her eyes are a little closed but this is just how she looks when she's drunk, red-faced and sleepy and totally beautiful.

"You're so beautiful," he says suddenly. He doesn't feel so drunk when he says it, even as the world spins on madly around them. "And I want to be with you so, so bad and you do not want me back."

She nuzzles her face into his chest, mumbles something he can't hear, and then closes her eyes. He thinks maybe she's been asleep this whole time, but then things start to change. She's wearing this tank top and he can see straight down it, can see her boobs pressed bra-less against his chest, can feel every inch of her little body on his, and like…that _does_ stuff to his dick. Like he really does always want to fuck her and make love to her or whatever but it feels like three times harder tonight and he's not sure how that's possible.

Her arms wind around his waist, though, under his shirt, and her hands are cold and he feels so, so warm. She whispers his name and rolls on top of him and her hips press into him, like, right where they _should_ and he moans a little and she does, too, and she pulls him tighter against her body and pushes her hips a little insistently against his. She's kissing him, now, and it feels so, so good, so _right_, like they should've been doing this forever, kissing and touching and his hands under her shirt, pressed against her boobs and she whimpers and makes these noises that he thinks are gonna be playing on a loop in his head when he jerks off for the rest of his life.

He feels breathless and so in love with her, his hands on her hips guiding her, moving faster and slower with her and _fuck_, he's gonna come so fast and he can't even imagine what's gonna happen when they have actual sex because at this point it's an inevitability, but her movements grow erratic and she clutches him close and shuts her eyes tightly and –

Well. She comes and he comes and when they're both down from their proverbial highs (he doesn't think he'll ever really come down) and their breathing is heavy she tells him she's never, ever felt so good in her life.

From there it should be natural, right? Like, then he'll probably make her come again with his fingers, or maybe his mouth, or maybe even both? And maybe he'll get her off again in the midst of one orgasm, and then maybe she'll put her mouth around him or her hand, and then he'll wanna come inside of her and she'll roll a condom over him and they'll be having sex and it'll be so much more than it's ever been before, for either of them, and after, she'll cuddle up against him just like right now and tell him again that it's never been like that before and she'll let him marry her and they'll maybe have a few kids and everything will be absolutely perfect.

Instead, she mouths at his cheek for a minute and then falls asleep against his chest. She's all cuddled against him, though, and okay, everything gets really dizzy and he feels so, so good, if a little uncomfortable now in his boxers, and he closes his eyes and falls asleep really quickly.

He wakes up and the clock reads half past five in the morning. His head is pounding and his mouth is cottony and Rachel's little body is still snuggled against him, warm and soft and perfect, and he doesn't wanna leave her but he has to pee really fucking bad and at this point his boxers are totally uncomfortable so he slips out of bed and brushes his teeth and takes an aspirin and pees and changes his bottoms and climbs back into bed with Rachel.

She makes these cute little humming noises in her sleep and when she feels the bed dip she curls into his side and he leans down and kisses her softly.

"Finn," she breathes, half-asleep and so lovely, even in the midst of slumber. He kisses her again, on the mouth and then on the nose, and she pushes her thigh between his and squeezes him, "stay, please."

Like he'd ever, _ever_ leave.

_ix_.

The next day, Rachel tells him she has a headache and tells him she doesn't want him to shave and kisses him on the cheek. And he lets her latch onto his back after she brushes her teeth and he deposits her on the couch and brings her aspirin and water and whatever she wants, really. He's a big guy, you know, so the hangover isn't even too bad especially now that he's eaten and had aspirin, but she's all tiny and she was way more drunk than him last night.

"Finn, lie down," she commands.

"Um…don't you wanna scoot over?"

"No." She's smiling and she tells him she wants to be the big spoon. She pouts, and then, "Please, Finn? It'll make me feel _so_ much better."

He sighs and settles onto the couch in front of her. It feels really weird, and he's worried she can't see the television and he feels too big for this, out of place and a little uncomfortable, but then she scoots up a little so that the back of his head is pressed against her chest and she slips her hands under his shirt.

"Is this…is this okay?" He hums softly and she kisses the top of his head. He doesn't know what's gonna happen between them, but for the first time in a long time he doesn't doubt that she wants him, too.

Her hands are so, so warm, and soft, and they start rubbing these circles into his stomach and he's gonna get really hard really fast if she doesn't stop, but it feels too good to say anything.

"Don't stop," he murmurs, putting his hands on her wrists and moving her hands up so they're just rubbing above his belly button. He groans and closes his eyes, feels perfectly relaxed in this moment. He wants to turn around and kiss her, and he thinks at this point, she might let him.

She massages him into this stupor that's only broken when she stops her motions and the movement of her chest up and down becomes deep and even behind him. He laughs a little, turning around, and kisses the apple of her cheek tenderly.

Her breath pushes out and she hums and mumbles a little and he thinks she's simultaneously the cutest thing and the hottest, you know? There's just something so fascinating about her that makes him want to know every single facet of her personality, from the reason she wears knee socks in the summer to why she was so messed up back when he first met her, like why did she think she needed Jesse or Brody or maybe even _him_ to validate her when she's already the best person he knows?

Instead of maybe waking her and asking or telling her he loves her, he just lets her sleep.

He doesn't fall asleep, but he knows she's a heavy sleeper so her adjusts them so he's behind her and he drapes a blanket over the both of them. He kisses the nape of her neck and plays with the ends of her hair, just listening to her breathing.

When she wakes up, she's kind of confused, all blinking and sweet and she lets him kiss her slowly, his mouth on hers and then her tongue pushing into his mouth, and then both of their tongues and there are nebulas and galaxies and he feels like he's spinning the loom of his very own universe as his hands search beneath her shirt.

"Finn," she breathes when they part for air, and her hands are in his hair while he kisses her neck. She giggles a little when he starts nipping at the skin there, but not like _bad_ giggles, but more like the giggles elicited when you're really falling in love with someone for the first time. He wonders for a moment if he's watching her fall in love with him, and he wonders what falling in love _looks_ like, so he pulls away, searches her face, her eyes shiny and her cheeks flushed, her mouth swollen and smiling.

He decides that if she's falling in love it certainly is a beautiful sight.

"Let's go out," she says, playing with his palm.

He swallows hard. "Like a date, you mean?"

She smiles demurely and climbs into his lap, winds her arms around his neck and plays a little with the hair at the base of his neck. "Maybe."

_x._

They're standing at the front porch and he kisses her on the mouth, cupping her face gently in his hands and just kissing her like they're in high school and he's being chaste in front of her parents. Her hands grab at his shirt, though, twisting the fabric and pulling him close. He likes it.

When they get inside they stumble up the stairs to her room and after kissing heatedly in the doorway of her bedroom she tells him, softly, "let's lay down on the bed," and then they're lying down and kissing and she puts his hand on her boob and he's so fucking hard, like, he's usually pretty good about not getting all sexual and hot around her but there's just something about her that completely enchants every single part of him.

Her breath is soft against his skin and her hands sneak under his shirt and run all over him, his stomach and chest, his shoulders, and she pulls it off and starts kissing him. From there, he sort of loses track of how things happen.

Like, suddenly, they're both naked and kissing, the blanket pulled taut around their bodies and she's got her hand on him and his hand is between her legs.

"I want you," she murmurs softly and he wonders how many other guys she's said that to, wonders if she meant it like she does right now. Almost like she's reading his mind, she tells him, "I've never…it's never been like this for me."

"Huh?" He stills over her, grunts when her hand tightens around him and his breath comes in these fast gasps and _fuck_ he doesn't want to come until he's inside her.

"It's never felt this right before." He thinks she loves him. Or she's close. So he pulls her hand off of him, kisses her, asks where she keeps condoms because he _knows_ she has them somewhere and then she's rolling the condom over him and every single touch sets his entire body alight.

He might tell her he loves her when he pushes inside of her. Words are kind of lost to him right now, when she's under him and looking so uncomfortable for a few seconds and then she's telling him to _fucking move or else_ and he's done this before and he knows she has, too, but he feels like every single time he's done this before now has been just sex and this is something altogether different.

_This_ is what they're talking about when they tell you to wait 'til marriage, he thinks. Because he has this moment, when Rachel groans his name and squeezes his shoulders and kisses his mouth, there's this moment where he just sees his entire future spread out in front of him, loving Rachel and living with Rachel and marrying Rachel and having babies and grandbabies and a house and a fucking _life_.

He's going kind of slow, too. Being really tender, because she told him once when they were talking late at night, when their conversations would always lead to serious stuff, she told him that she's turned on most when someone's really sweet to her. And he thinks it must be true, because she's flushed and moaning and whimpering, even, and she bites down a little onto his lip when she starts to come but he doesn't even feel anything other than this incredible buildup in his stomach and then he's coming, too, seeing stars and hanging between constellations.

She's rubbing his back when he finally feels conscious again, just running her fingers over his back and then he kisses her on the cheek. He's still on top of her and worried he could be crushing her, but it feels oddly comfortable, surrounding her. Like he can protect her, even if she doesn't need it.

He gets out of bed and cleans up in her bathroom, because as comfy as he is being with her, he kind of wants to feel clean. Maybe she'll shower with him. He's not sure what's happening between them, but he feels like it's the start of something good.

Eventually, she finds her voice, "Finn, it's never been that amazing before."

He's just stepping out of the bathroom and she's sitting on the bed, her hair a mess and she's wearing his shirt and nothing else and he kind of wants to pass out he loves her so much. And he smiles at what she says, sits beside her on the bed and pulls her legs into his lap, rubs them slowly.

"I know." There are so many emotions bubbling around inside of him, happiness, love (obviously), and even a little arrogance. He kisses her again and again, just pressing his closed mouth against hers and eventually she starts to smile and giggle a little, but in that _good_ way.

"Let's go to bed," she whispers, "it's late."

It's not that late, but he wants to cuddle with her, feel her hip curved beneath his hand and her hands pressed against his chest. When he's certain she's asleep, he whispers in her ear that he loves her so, so much.

Some day he will find the courage to tell her when she's awake.

_xi_.

So they don't really tell anyone that they kiss sometimes and more than kiss other times. There aren't many people to tell, but it's just this secret sort of thing, and he can't decide if he hates it or not. He just wants to be with her and it's not like they're just being friends with benefits, because she'll rub his stomach and kiss his temple and tell him she likes him so, so much, and sometimes that she's falling in love with him.

Sam always asks him where he is at night and he just kinda brushes him off. He's rarely sleeping in the dorm room but Rachel told him she wants to keep it just between them for now.

He's okay with it and all, but he's the kind of guy who wants to brag about how happy he is to everyone, to shout it from the rooftops that he's in love, but he thinks Rachel's been hurt a lot in her life because her very first boyfriend used her and wasn't good to her like she deserves, so he understands her reluctance.

When she wants him, she sends him a text message with two little heart emoticons. It's become her thing, and he thinks it's really fucking cute. Except tonight, he's playing Halo with Sam and totally kicking his ass when his phone chimes and Sam sees it.

"Why's Rachel Berry sending you hearts?"

"Uh…'cause we're friends?"

"I don't fucking send my friends hearts, dude." He shrugs. "If you're getting down on that, it'd be cool to know."

"Yeah, okay." He texts her back something about being busy, and he'll be there in a minute. Or ten. Or twenty. He's not sure, really. "C'mon, let me kick your ass so I can get to her."

She doesn't text him back, though, so he's not _too_ worried that it takes them twenty minutes to finish. He makes his way down to her room and sees some guy standing outside her door.

"Uh, who are you?"

"I could ask you the same question."

He lifts his eyebrow and knocks on her door. "Rach? It's me."

"Really. Who are you?"

"This is my Finn," Rachel interjects, grabbing onto his hand. She looks scared and he feels like shit for not coming sooner. "I _told_ you I've moved on."

"I don't think you'd date a guy like this, Rachel."

"Brody, we didn't even _date_!" Realization dawns on him and he moves so he's slightly in front of Rachel. "I'm so sorry, but you were – you were just a rebound."

"I think you should leave," Finn tells him, "she's made it clear she's not into you, dude, and that sucks, but – "

"This is between me and her, Jolly Green Giant."

"Brody, please…" She puts her arm around Finn's middle. "I'm with Finn, and I don't think I'll ever want to be with someone else again. I'm very sorry."

"S'fine, whatever. Didn't really wanna be seen with a slut like you anyways."

"Whoa, hold on – "

"It's okay, baby," Rachel says softly, grabbing tight onto his shirt. Brody, like, _runs_ away, but Finn's pretty sure he could catch him if he ran fast enough. "Finn."

"Rachel, he can't talk to you like that!"

She hugs him, though, kisses the middle of his back. "Come inside."

He joins her inside and she pushes him onto her bed and climbs onto his lap and she kisses him and he always loves kissing her but he can't get that into it right now and he pulls away.

"Wait, wait," he breathes, slipping his hands beneath her shirt and stilling her. "Baby, did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" She's rubbing her thumbs against his chest, looking so beautiful, eyes wide and pretty.

"What you said…to Brody. About me."

"That I don't ever want to be with anyone else?" She's smiling, and it doesn't look condescending, so he thinks this is a good sign.

"Yeah."

"Of course I meant it," she says, "I love you."

He thinks he's maybe having a panic attack. Or something. Or like maybe he's dreaming? He's not sure. But Rachel Berry just told him she loves him, and he loves her, too, and he's going to pass out.

She's giggling though and kisses his nose. "Are you going to be all right?"

"No," he gasps, and tilts his head so she'll kiss him. He loves her so, so much.

"I love you so much, too," she murmurs, and he guesses he said that out loud.

He feels like every single part of him comes together, like the threads of his heart will never unravel because he's got _her_ and _them_ and that's all they need.

_xii_.

The summer is long and hot and he misses her when he's not working. She visits twice in June, he sees her two weeks in July, and August fifteenth they move into their very first apartment. It's a pretty shitty place, to be honest. But they pay the lease and down payment or whatever (he's still not used to adulthood) and it's theirs.

Rachel buys a mattress and a frame and they set it up and wind up getting distracted by the mattress itself. The sheets are this nice blue and the blankets are white and so are the pillow cases and she hangs all these pictures of them around the house, and pictures of their families, too.

They have a fridge and his fake ID and they buy beer and have Sam and Santana and Tina and Mike (who's totally cool and just transferred to NYU) and Blaine, this dude in Rachel's theater classes, and all of their friends come over on the weekends and it's just – it's cool. Santana hooks up with random girls and Sam does, too, and they even hook up with the same girl and there's a huge fight and Rachel thinks it's so, so funny.

He doesn't drink coffee, hates the taste, but he's always up before Rachel and he likes to see that smile even before nine in the morning, so he brews her a pot every single day. She does stuff for him, too. Like she always stocks up on this shampoo he likes and makes sure there's towels in the bathroom. And when she makes herself something vegan and disgusting she always makes him something delicious, too.

She's dropped out of school and has been auditioning, so their schedules are a little messed up, and she's home when he's not and so on, but when they're both home, they talk on the couch and sometimes they'll make dinner together and laugh and when she bakes she'll toss flower at him, sprinkling it in her hair. Those nights always wind up with him inside of her on the kitchen floor.

It's totally cool, this life he's leading. She still wears that sweater from the very first week every once in a while, and it used to smell like him – used to be his – but he thinks that like a lot of things, she's claimed it as her own.

_xiii_.

Things aren't perfect. They fight and don't make enough money and work more than they should. He almost fails a class and has this breakdown, and she gets a bad critique from the best professor and she cries for an entire evening, inconsolable.

But he knows he loves her and it's worth it. It's been worth it so far, hasn't it? They never really talk about _before_, now that they're juniors and together so completely.

One night, curled together post-coitus she rests her head on his chest and looks up at him, starry-eyed with flushed cheeks. "You know I've loved you all along, right?"

Her palm is flat on his chest, sneaks down to his belly, and he grumbles softly. She's really so good at this. "Huh?"

"I really did." He blinks lazily and puts his hand on her cheek. "Even with – with that Brody thing, freshman year. I thought about you that entire time, and I didn't _want_ to. I wanted to be with you from the very first time we made out."

"Me, too," he murmurs. "I'm tired, sunshine."

"Go to sleep, then." He sighs and shakes his head.

"No, no. I need to ask you something. It's important."

"Do you finally want to get a puppy?"

He laughs. "Not yet, Rach." He runs his hand over her hair, brushes her bangs back and kisses her forehead. "I've been thinking, lately, about you. How special you are to me and how much you love me, and how much I love you."

"You're my person," she says, smiling. He laughs because she's been watching _Grey's Anatomy_ and he knows she's said that to twenty-five people probably, but he knows she means it most for him.

"I'm so – so lucky, you know? First, you let me kiss you, and now you let me love you." He slips out of the bed, pulls her to the edge, and he kneels. "And now, I want to know if you'll let me marry you."

She's got her hand over her mouth and she doesn't say anything for long enough that he feels a little anxious, feels his stomach swoop in dread. He's not ready for this to end. Her dads had said she'd be enthusiastic when he'd asked their permission, and he abruptly wishes just once that he could read her mind.

But then she's screaming. Or squealing. And she leaps towards him, knocks him to the ground and then she's kissing him a little fervently. When she pulls away, she's on top of him, panting and smiling and the loveliest girl in the world.

"So, wait, is that a yes?"

_xiv_.

He wakes up and he's alone in the bed. Rachel's become a bit of a late sleeper and it's only six especially, so he's abruptly worried. She's been so stressed lately, with wedding plans and her show and she always tells him she wants to help him at the apartment, but he's got a regular job and works normal hours so he tells her to rest up while she can.

They've been engaged maybe two years and she's been working on Broadway the last year and a half, her big break, but lately she's been working herself even harder than usual, and he's so, so worried.

She's in the bathroom. The light is on, the door is cracked, and the sliver of light slants across the room, and he decides to check in on her, and frowns when he sees her leaning against the toilet.

He asks her what's wrong, tacks a _muffin_ on the end because it's his most embarrassing name for her and it always makes her smile. Embarrassing for _him_, at least.

"Finny," she groans and he pulls her into his lap. "Take me back to bed."

He know she must be feeling like shit if she's calling him that and he grabs the waste basket and puts it on her side of the bed, and he wets a washcloth with cold water, too, in case she's got a fever. He presses the cloth over her forehead and she puts her hand on his thigh.

"Do you want me to call off work? Take you to the doctor? Rachel's _never_ sick.

She only hums and closes her eyes. He hates seeing her sick. It's only happened once before, when they were living together for the first time, and she'd been horribly sick and crying and stuff and he didn't know what to do. But he gets sick kinda often, he supposes, and she always takes really good care of him, and he wants to repay her.

He calls the doctor, makes an appointment for the afternoon. Rachel sleeps 'till noon and he wakes her up and brings her crackers and soup, and she leans against his side while she eats. She's usually so independent and stand alone, but today, she's letting him feed her and only answering questions in inflected whimpers.

They go to the doctor and she holds his hand and goes in and he sits in the chair in the doctor's office and watches her get checked up. Is it weird, that he's here? She'd asked him to come in with her.

The nurse comes in and goes out and Rachel's never been this quiet before and finally she breaks the silence.

"Finn, I think I know what's wrong with me," she says, and her voice is quiet. He stands up, puts his hands on her face.

"We can get through it, baby, don't_ worry_."

"I'm not – "

The doctor comes in and then she tells him – tells _them_ – that Rachel's pregnant. Six weeks. And he thinks he faints or something, because things go all black and he hears laughing, Rachel's and the doctor's, and he brings himself to his feet and he kisses her hard.

He's _so _happy.

"Are you sure you're not upset? I mean, we aren't even married."

"Nothing like a wedlock baby to make you love your woman more, am I right?" She pushes his arm. "Kidding, baby. Of course I'm happy. It's you and it's me."

She stretches onto her tiptoes and kisses his cheek. "Good."

"You're happy?"

"Always," she answers, even though he knows she's still feeling sick. She takes his hands, puts them on her belly, and covers his hands with hers. "It's _you_."


End file.
